


5 Times Bokuto Wanted To Close The Gap And 1 Time Kuroo Did

by jokeywrites



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 5+1 Things, Bokuto Has Terrible Timing, Broken Promises, Childhood Friends, Denial of Feelings, Drama & Romance, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Kuroo Tetsurou is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Self-Indulgent, Swearing, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:01:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26268433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jokeywrites/pseuds/jokeywrites
Summary: For the millionth time, he wonders why this particular love never faded. Is it because of all the poetic bullshit? Would the love simmer down if he quit trying to come up with new ways to describe the indescribable Kuroo Tetsurō?
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou, implied Bokuto Koutarou/Akaashi Keiji - Relationship
Comments: 119
Kudos: 143





	1. In His Infinite Desire

**Author's Note:**

> My best friend Lizzie drug me into Bokuroo hell and now here I am. This started out as me writing something sweet for her and turned into this mess. To everyone who loves these two, but especially Lizzie, I'm both very sorry and not sorry at all for what is to come. 
> 
> (also this is my fist 5+1 fic so pls be kind)

The first time the gap appears, they are seventeen and Kuroo is so full of life that Bokuto thinks that maybe, just maybe, the universe is not against them. Not that Bokuto would ever blame the universe for his problems. That would be such a cop out. 

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

“Dude, let us come over tonight,” Konoha demands, slamming his fist on the table between them. 

“You only wanna come over when my parents are gone,” Bokuto snaps, hand reaching for Kuroo’s beneath the table when the other flinches at the sound, “you know, not everyone has the desire to be as drunk as humanly possible every weekend.” 

“It’s not every weekend! Your parents only leave every other weekend.” 

“No way,” Bokuto huffs, “last time you broke the chandelier and I had to take the blame for it.” 

“To be fair,” Kuroo interjects, “you were the one that wanted to play indoor chicken.” 

“And I chose the wrong partner it seems since you couldn’t stop him from pulling it out of the ceiling.” 

“You wanted me to get electrocuted so you could avoid being grounded for a few days? Really, Bo?” 

“I wanted you to at least _try_ to win.” 

Graduation had appeared much faster than any of them had ever imagined and when Konoha had demanded they throw a party to celebrate, Bokuto immediately turned to Kuroo expecting him, in all of his infinite Kuroo wisdom, to be the voice of reason. Color him surprised when he saw the other smiling and nodding excitedly. 

Traitor, he thinks glumly.

A party, no matter how full of his friends they may be, is not Kuroo’s favorite scene. Out of all three years of his high school career, Bokuto had seen the other attend maybe two and he was always the first to leave. His excuse always being that he doesn’t like to overstay his welcome. 

“I think it sounds like a great idea,” Kuroo laughs, pulling his hand out of Bokuto’s and using it to give Konoha’s shoulder a friendly shove, “one last wild night before we all go our separate ways”

“Don’t you have entrance exams to cram for?” Konoha asks, eyeing Kuroo suspiciously. It seems Bokuto isn’t the only one confused by how easy this was. 

“Oh, please,” the raven haired male scoffs, “I’m probably the only one here that’s actually got a chance of getting in.” 

Bokuto barks a laugh at Konoha’s attempt to protest this fact. They all know Kuroo is the only one at the table with a near perfect GPA. “A wild night it is then.”

In true Bokuto fashion, he slams his hand down on top of Konoha’s hand where it still lays on the table, an excited shriek leaving him as the other male pulls his hand away and begins to chase him. 

“We’ll see you tonight!” He calls, rounding the corner and just barely escaping Konoha’s grasp.

He misses the way Kuroo deflates. 

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Bokuto is on his third lap around the room, already having won flip cup and beer pong twice and finding himself bored at the lackluster competition. He passes a few people he knows from other schools as he winds his way through the house, only stopping to offer first bumps when he has to. He’s becoming increasingly annoyed on his search for his friends when he spots a couple of Nohebi second years eyeing his parent’s crystal bowl collection above the fireplace and he has half a mind to chase them away; the other half hopes they steal it. Serves the fucker’s right for leaving him alone in this house. 

“Hey,” he shouts over the music, grabbing one of them by the scruff of their neck, “any of you seen Kuroo? Nekoma captain, hair like a rooster?”

They both nod, pointing towards the door that leads to the backyard and Bokuto releases them with a pat on the head as a goodbye. As he turns to leave, he offers some friendly advice, “Shit’s real, by the way. Only take the small ones on the end and no one will notice.”

Once in the backyard, the music fades to the background and the air feels much cooler now that he’s not crammed inside with very drunk teenagers and their horrible dancing. He laughs triumphantly when he spots his friends standing around a keg, lifting his arms to wave as he rushes to join them. In the dim light from the twinkle lights, Bokuto finds himself feeling a little nostalgic and he slows to stop to admire the way they all look as they laugh together. 

It’s no secret Bokuto has a habit of romanticizing the people in his life. The love never dies, he’s come to realize, it just fades over time. He looks at Konoha who has one arm thrown around Haruki and the other around Yamato and thinks of the first time they met. Bokuto had been much, much louder back then and no less intense and Konoha was one of the first to accept him; assuring the others of the potential he had. His eyes move to Akaashi Keiji, one of the greater loves of his very young life, the one who had transitioned from lover back to friend as Bokuto transitioned from wing spiker to ace, player to captain and from Akaashi’s star back to senpai. Akaashi catches his eye and smiles a little and he’s sure that the love only faded for him too. Little Kenma sits beside Akaashi and Bokuto thinks he even loved him once upon a time too. Kenma had been sort of a safe space, a quiet and calm harbor for Bokuto’s constantly changing moods. Bokuto should have thanked him for that. 

He walks just a bit closer and then pauses again, thinking about how this is basically a big goodbye to everyone, something he’s not ready for just like he isn’t ready to think about the final member standing at the keg and how he loves them still. Even worse, that tonight he will have to break their heart just a little bit. He takes a deep breath and finally gets the courage to look up. The regret is immediate. 

Kuroo Tetsurō is a force of nature. He’s sharp lines and long limbs and a smirk that screams bad boy even if the person behind it is the farthest thing from it. He’s quiet but finding his voice with age and he’s the smartest dude Bokuto has ever known. He stands there looking like a dream or Adonis or whatever other poetic bullshit is supposed to look like. He’s beautiful and Bokuto wants to run to him. For the millionth time, he wonders why this particular love never faded. Is it because of all the poetic bullshit? Would the love simmer down if he quit trying to come up with new ways to describe the indescribable Kuroo Tetsurō?

Probably not. 

Either way, if he had to rate all those previous loves on a scale from one to ten, they would probably round out to a 7 with Akaashi setting the curve, but as he regrets looking up and meeting Kuroo’s golden eyes, crinkled from laughing, he knows this is the big one-oh. 

Is now a bad time to mention Kuroo is the one who explained to him about how curves actually work? 

“Bo! Where have you been?” Kuroo calls, waving his red cup through the air and starting to stumble towards him. 

Bokuto reaches out to catch him as he starts to fall over and has to take a deep breath when the other wraps his long arms around his neck and hides his face in his neck. Kuroo, who is typically a force of nature, looks so gentle with his red cheeks and the dim lights making the beautiful, harsh lines he was just talking about, soft, “Woah, there. How much have you had to drink?”

“Mm. A few,” Kuroo hums, breathing in and making Bokuto shiver, “I’ve been looking for you all night.”

“Me? Well don’t I feel special.” 

“Super special!” Konoha shouts, falling into Haruki’s arms in an attempt to mock them, “Now, take me upstairs you big beefy man and—-“ 

“Are you ever not an obnoxious, asswipe?” Kenma mutters, cutting Konoha off and making the rest of them howl with laughter. 

The other two don’t even notice. They continue to stand there, holding one another underneath artificial stars; Kuroo because he’s drunk, Bokuto because he’s hopelessly, ridiculously in love with his childhood best friend. 

And sure, it’s not like there haven’t been better times for him to realize this. Maybe admitting it when they were 15 and Kuroo was laying in his bed with his eyes red from crying and asking Bokuto to kiss him would have been more ideal. However, he knew at the time Kuroo was newly heartbroken and only looking to prove that someone was willing to do it. In his need to comfort himself with the fact that he was desirable in any sense of the word, he’d turned to Bokuto and called him by his given name for the first time, whispering it like a prayer that only Bokuto was allowed to hear. He hadn’t wanted to complicate things further for his best friend so he’d done it without question and smiled happily when the other fell asleep without the crease between his eyebrows for the first time in a while. Kuroo snored and Bokuto stared at the ceiling, tears leaking out the corners of his eyes as _Koutarou, Koutarou, Koutarou,_ played on an unending loop in his head.

“Alright, alright,” Bokuto chuckles, pulling Kuroo under his arm, “I think it's about time we got you to bed.” 

“Can’t go home,” Kuroo slurs, “too drunk.” As if to prove his point he begins to sink to the ground, hanging onto Bokuto’s arm the entire way down. Bokuto can’t help but laugh softly as he leans down to scoop the other up in his arms. 

“You can stay here,” he chides, ignoring the jeers and wolf whistles from behind them as he walks away. If he wasn’t holding Kuroo, he’d offer them at least one of his middle fingers over his shoulder. 

Bokuto makes his way slowly up the stairs in an attempt to jostle Kuroo as little as possible, pushing his bedroom door open and pulling it closed with the tip of his shoe so the music softens and is mostly a dull thumping noise. He sits Kuroo on the bed, pulling his arms from where they are locked around his neck and helps him out of his jacket and boots. 

“Do you want to change into some different clothes to sleep?” He whispers, fingers dipping beneath the hem of Kuroo’s shirt when he nods and pulling it over his head. He offers the other boy one of his shirts, smiling softly when he sees it's a little big around the shoulders. 

He helps Kuroo get underneath the covers, turns to go and yelps when long arms reach out and pull him down on top of a very warm body. “You hide from me all night and now you’re just gonna put me to bed and run away?”

“I’m not running,” Bokuto laughs, twisting so he’s laying beside Kuroo instead of on top of him and pulling the other into his chest, “I was _trying_ to help you get some sleep.” 

“What makes you think I’m tired? I could go all night.” Cue a very well timed yawn.

“Sure, you can.” Bokuto rubs soothing circles into Kuroo’s back and sighs when he hears the other’s breathing deepen, “but, before you fall asleep I do need to tell you something.”

Kuroo’s face turns up at this, his eyebrows creasing in concern at the other’s tone. “Okay?”

He takes a deep breath, grounding himself. He knows this is where he will have to break Kuroo’s heart just a little, “I’ve decided I’m not going to college.” 

Silence.

Silence so loud it drowns out the swirling music downstairs and the voices that try to shout above it. Bokuto leans up on his elbow to stare down at Kuroo as he processes the information he’s just been given. The soft lines are turning hard again but not in the beautiful way; the sad way, the disappointed way. 

“But, I helped you study,” is all Kuroo says, the crease in between his eyebrows deepening, “You applied to the same school as me.”

“I know, I know,” Bokuto hushes him, his hand coming up to cup Kuroo’s cheek and run his thumb soothingly over the other’s cheekbone. “I got an offer to go pro and I have to take it.” 

The furrow in Kuroo’s brow lessens just the tiniest bit as Bokuto knew it would. Going pro meant everything to him. 

“When did you get the offer?” 

“After nationals.” He admits, turning his eyes towards the ceiling. “The Black Jackals offered me a position. I was going to tell everyone tonight but I wanted you to be the first to know.”

“You’ve known for two months?” 

The accusation lays heavy between them, and Bokuto hears the grief in Kuroo’s now labored breathing. He hates himself for being the cause of it, hates that he knows he should have told him sooner. 

The silence grows and Bokuto keeps up his attempt to soothe Kuroo as he takes it all in. He lets their foreheads touch, sees Kuroo’s eyes fall closed and his chin lifts just the slightest bit. For a second Bokuto thinks this is it, he’s already admitted one thing, what damage could one more admission do? And who says there has to be damage? He’s broken Kuroo’s heart a little, sure, but what if this next admission is enough to patch up the tiny crack? He swallows, tilts his head towards Kuroo’s just a bit more so that their lips are almost touching. He’s leaving so it’s now or never, he thinks. 

“Kuroo, I---,” he stops, feeling a hand pressed to his lips. 

“We’re about to say goodbye. _You’ve_ decided to say goodbye.” Kuroo whispers, his eyes glassy and his lip pulled between his teeth. “Don’t do this to me.” 

Bokuto, in his infinite desire to do anything to make Kuroo’s life as easy as possible, pulls back. He wants to curse at the cavern that’s now spread out between them instead of the gap that was there just a moment ago. A cavern he’s created. If he were braver, he would have just done it, but the look of devastation on Kuroo’s face is exactly why he left it up to him to close the gap. A confession without words, and now Kuroo knows that the gap is there, should he ever want to close it too. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” 

Bokuto stays with Kuroo until he falls asleep and then untangles himself from the other’s limbs and rejoins the party with the intention of getting as drunk as possible. 

He falls asleep on the couch for the first time in a very, very long time.

  
  
  
  
  



	2. A Nice Thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He turns his face to the sky and screams, not caring who notices. He is impervious to everything right now, except the pain of loving Kuroo Tetsurō.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I want to apologize that this chapter is shorter than the last but I’m so happy to share with you the next update! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read and special thanks to Lizzie and Beck who read the chapters over and over again no matter how many minor details I change. I couldn’t do it without you.

They are 19 and Kuroo is no less full of life than he was but he is losing the voice he worked so hard to find. Even worse, he won’t tell Bokuto where it’s gone or who is taking it. It’s an incredibly inconvenient time for the gap to reappear, but again, Bokuto won’t blame the universe. He hates a cop out.

He feels like he’s mentioned that before. 

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

It’s still dark outside when he pulls the door of his apartment shut behind himself, his breath showing in the cool October air. The sun still sits just behind the horizon, where it will stay for at least another hour of rest before it lights up the morning sky. He starts to jog, the familiar path to the coffee shop they meet at once a month, crunching beneath his new shoes. It’s 5:02 AM and he’s hoping he’ll be the first to arrive for once. 

When he rounds the corner, he’s disappointed. Standing there in all black, dark as the morning sky with it’s tired moon hanging low now, is Kuroo holding two cups of steaming coffee, “You’re late. You gotta wake up earlier than that if you’re planning on paying.” 

Bokuto only offers the other a small laugh as he takes his coffee and lifts his hands in mock surrender. It’s been two years of this now; meeting up for coffee and a morning run. The air around them is always icy these days, even in the middle of June. He’s beginning to think that maybe Kuroo is warming back up to him, but then again, maybe it’s just the coffee. 

“You cut your hair,” he says, his eyes taking Kuroo in from top to bottom. He doesn’t dislike it, but it’s not the same. Nothing is anymore. 

“I thought it was time for a change.” 

“It looks nice.” 

“Thank you.” And they leave it at that, sipping their coffee in not icy silence exactly but not warm laughter either. 

Their run begins with Kuroo keeping pace with Bokuto, speeding up whenever their arms brush against one another. It’s pretty familiar territory for Bokuto, him chasing after Kuroo and knowing he could catch him if he wanted to, but letting him go because he knows that's what Kuroo wants. Knows that this is Kuroo’s way of proving something. If only Bokuto knew what it was. 

Five miles. They run five miles and then some, not stopping until the sky finally turns from inky black to navy and Bokuto can see the way Kuroo clutches at a stitch in his side so he suggests they take a break. He’s tired too. Not from running, though. From the look in his eyes, Kuroo isn’t fooled but is too proud to protest. They sit on the frozen ground, shivering and inevitably scooting closer. Bokuto raises his arm in offering and for the first time in a long time, Kuroo doesn’t fight him. 

Maybe the ice is beginning to thaw. 

“How’s school? Kicking ass as per usual?” He asks, rubbing Kuroo’s arm in an attempt to warm him. 

“It’s fine. A lot harder than I expected.” Silence, and then, “I saw highlights of your last game. You’re still in top form.”

“You think? I was beginning to think old age caught up with me,” Bokuto answers, rubbing his brace covered knee almost on instinct. 

“You are getting gray hairs,” 

“I am?” He all but screams, hand flying to his head before he remembers. He dyes his hair gray. “Oh, haha. Very funny.” 

“What can I say? I’ve always been the funny one.” 

“The funny looking one maybe.” 

Kuroo laughs loudly, and freely in the morning sunlight, his head thrown back and his eyes squeezed shut. Like this, he just looks tired instead of exhausted. Bokuto reaches out and tugs at a strand of Kuroo’s short hair causing him to turn to look at him. 

“Are you getting enough sleep?” He blurts, tactful as always. 

“Is that a nice way of telling me I look like shit?” Kuroo laughs, bumping Bokuto with his shoulder and making them fall back to lay in the sun that has finally come out to say hello. 

“No,” he assures the other, lifting up on his elbow to stare down at his friend’s sun kissed face. “I just know you don’t take care of yourself unless someone makes you.”

Kuroo keeps his eyes closed, a small smile lighting up his face. It’s one of the few smiles he’s allowed Bokuto to see in a long time so he stays lifted on his elbow even though it’s beginning to burn with the effort. He takes this moment to drink all of Kuroo in, not sure when they’ll be at peace like this again. Kuroo’s tan skin is caramel in the morning light and the light brings out the slightest hint of brown in his black hair. Despite promising himself he was done with poetic bullshit when it comes to Kuroo, he can’t help but think he belongs in a painting. 

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Kuroo says, his eyes fluttering opening and his cheeks going red, “I’ve got someone taking care of me.” 

“Oh?” is all he says, his body going rigid and turning as icy as the ground beneath them. 

“Yeah,” Kuroo sighs, the small smile turning into a bright one and his eyes lighting up like they used. Bokuto feels sick. “He’s way too good for me, and I have no idea how he puts up with me, but it’s good. It’s going really good.”

It’s like a lump of wet sand in the back of his throat when he realizes that Kuroo’s good mood is due to this new relationship and not that they are returning to the easy way they used to be. He swallows against it, feeling it fall thickly down his throat and settle heavily in the pit of his stomach. “No one is too good for you, Kuroo.”

“Bokuto, you’re my best friend.” Kuroo says with a roll of his eyes, “You have to say stuff like that.”

He sits all the way up, turning to lean over Kuroo at the sound of his full name coming out of the other’s lips. For the longest time he had been Bo, or Kou and in their most intimate and vulnerable moments, he had even been Koutarou. “Since when did you start calling me Bokuto again?” 

Kuroo shrugs, nonchalant as always, “I dunno. Does it matter?” 

“What do you mean does it matter?” 

Kuroo shrugs again as the name echoes through his head over and over and over; taunting him almost. He knows this is Kuroo’s way of separating them further, if not only in person than in the way they interact. He knows the physical distance between them is taxing enough and that Bokuto’s betrayal of keeping his decision to go pro a secret for so long still sits heavily between them. Half of him is very aware of how this is mostly his fault, but the other half wants to blame this new mystery man. 

“He doesn’t like me?” Bokuto asks as casually as he can. Too bad he’s never been good at casual. His mouth tastes like copper. 

“How could he not? He doesn’t even know you.” Kuroo huffs, sitting up as well and scooting so close their knees bump together, “He just thinks we spend too much time together.” 

“We see eachother once a month!” He protests, throwing his arms up in frustration. 

“And we call, and text and facetime all the time in between.” 

“Not all the time,” Bokuto snaps, bitterness filling his body, “You hardly ever answer anymore.”

“It’s not like I’m doing it to upset you,” Kuroo promises, his eyes falling downward, “I’m just new to all of this, ya know?. You, of all people, know how selfish and shit I can be. I want to make things work.” 

Kuroo leans in close, his nose bumping against Bokuto’s cheek in an attempt to soothe him. This is the most Kuroo has willingly touched him in a very long time and Bokuto hates himself for being too angry to appreciate it. He reaches up and pulls Kuroo closer with a hand placed gently on the back of his neck. Their noses collide a little painfully and Bokuto tilts his head to the left, breathing in when Kuroo breathes out. In true Bokuto fashion, he’s opening the gap at one of the worst times and hoping that Kuroo will want to close it too. 

“Kuroo, you deserve to be with someone who lifts you up,” he whispers, feeling electricity from where their lips almost touch as he speaks, “You deserve to have someone who trusts you and treats you with more kindness than you can bear.” 

Kuroo laughs softly, lifting his hands to card through Bokuto’s black and gray hair, “When did you get so mature? I feel like you’re miles ahead of me at this point.” 

Bokuto refuses to be soothed. 

“Kuroo, please,” he begs, inching just the smallest bit forward as if he can convince Kuroo to close the gap through willpower alone, “I just want to walk away from here today knowing you are being taken care of.” 

“Can’t you trust my judgement on this? Bo, please.” 

With one little name Bokuto feels like he’s breathing again; his nostrils flare and he inhales so deep he thinks he may gag on the early morning air. Kuroo knows what he’s doing and Bokuto wishes he could fault him for it. The copper taste is long gone, taken over by the relief of hearing Kuroo call him something so casual. So loving. “Did I ruin us?” 

“It is a nice thought,” Kuroo says with a shake of his head, finally pulling back and offering Bokuto a sad smile, “the thought of you and me.” 

“I would take care of you,” Bokuto promises, his hand falling from Kuroo’s neck as the gap turns into a cavern, yet again. 

“I’m sure you would. Better than I deserve, probably.” 

With that, Kuroo stands and offers Bokuto his hand. He gets to his feet robotically, feeling like a man with nothing left to lose and much less to give. The sun is high in the sky now and he hears Kuroo mention that his boyfriend will be upset he was out later than he said he would be. Bokuto thinks he’s told the guys name at some point but he doesn’t retain it, doesn’t want to. He walks Kuroo to his front door, tries not to scream when they don’t hug goodbye. 

The door clicks closed between them and Bokuto’s feet slap the ground beneath him as he runs and runs and runs. It is a nice thought, he thinks as his breathing becomes labored, the thought of him and Kuroo. He turns his face to the sky and screams, not caring who notices. He is impervious to everything right now, except the pain of loving Kuroo Tetsurō. 

Fuck the universe, man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come scream at me on tumblr @koutarrou and twitter @shiikamaruz


	3. Beast of Burden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto presses their foreheads together, pulling Kuroo closer when he feels the other’s body tense. They’ve been here many times before; one offering a tether to shore and the other debating on whether they’re going to take it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Another quick update from your relentless writer friend, Jo! This will be the only update for at least two weeks bc i’ve done quite a bit in such a short time and i need a break. 
> 
> As always i have to give a big thank you to Beck and Lizzie who read this time and time again to assure me it was good enough to post. 
> 
> And another big thank you goes to Nat, who helped me edit this piece and gave me so many nice compliments along the way. 
> 
> This one’s to you, Nat, a fellow lover of the world.

They are 22 and it’s been a year since Kuroo had showed up on his doorstep looking frazzled and worse for wear. He had begged to stay with Bokuto and what could the other do besides find the first two bedroom apartment that would take them? It’s cramped and needs more repair than it’s worth but it’s also something he now shares with Kuroo so he thinks it’s the closest he’s ever felt to home. The only thing he would change, would be the way Kuroo’s eyes seem so vacant. That voice he had tried to build is completely gone and he seems so out of touch with the world. Bokuto just wishes he could make Kuroo feel at home, too. 

The universe is endlessly cruel to Kuroo Tetsurō. 

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Everything about Kuroo is quieter these days. 

Well, not everything. Not his laughs or his snores or his adamant yells about how he definitely did  _ not  _ cheat at Mario Kart. Those things are all loud and full of life and if today were any other day, Bokuto would be sitting and drinking in the sounds of Kuroo as he moved about the house.

Today is not any other day. 

The quiet comes in waves, he’s noticed over the past year. Kuroo shines so bright, and has since they were kids, that Bokuto almost forgets about the quiet until the wave is at its peak and crashes all over both of them while he scrambles to pull his best friend back from beneath whatever icy waters have taken over his mind. It makes him shiver just to think about. 

It starts that morning as Kuroo dresses for work, his shoulders stiff and his fingers fumbling over the same knot he ties every morning until he looks like he might cry from sheer frustration. He turns back to the mirror in their small shared bathroom as Bokuto watches from the doorway and deflates at his own reflection. Their eyes meet in the mirror and Kuroo finally admits defeat, turning to let Bokuto help him. 

“Having an off day, it seems,” Bokuto hums, in an effort to get Kuroo to talk. It won’t work. It never does. 

“Just didn’t get enough sleep last night is all,” Kuroo answers all light and airy, a mischievous smile breaking across his face. “I know it’s hard to believe I woke up looking this good without my beauty sleep.” 

The shorter man laughs without any actual humor, patting Kuroo’s shoulder as he walks by and accepting the kiss at his temple. His heart flutters and then squeezes painfully because he’s loved Kuroo for far too long to be deceived by fake smiles and casual touches. 

As he gathers his own things for practice, he begins to wonder when he became this fretful person. He can’t remember the last time he woke up and his first thought wasn’t of the man who slept just down the hall. 

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

“Long day at work?” He asks, growing tired of watching Kuroo wash the same cup for the third, fourth and fifth time. 

When he had re-entered their apartment that evening, he was met with a very dazed looking Kuroo standing in front of the kitchen sink. The other’s shirt was wet and the sleeves of his suit jacket had a few bubbles gathered around its cufflinks reminding him of the seafoam left behind by the ocean’s waves. 

“Mm,” Kuroo hums, continuing his endless loop of wash, rinse, repeat. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

The quiet returns, but again, Bokuto has loved the other man for so long he can see the hidden meanings in the way he holds himself. Kuroo’s eyes are turned towards the ceiling as if it holds the answers to the universe and his shoulders are no longer rigid, but slumped in defeat. It’s a sign the waves have finally won and Kuroo has run out of fight. Bokuto finds himself, once again, wishing he had actually met the man who made Kuroo feel as if his very existence is a burden. Then again, Bokuto can’t help calm the storm from a jail cell. 

“Stop that,” he mutters, pulling the spotless mug from Kuroo’s hands and setting it aside, “c’mere.” 

His friend relents and allows himself to be pulled along to the living room. Bokuto starts loosening the tie around his neck, desperate to get it away from the other’s throat and give him more room to breathe. 

“You’re too good to me.” 

“Stop saying stuff like that.” He feels himself tense, his heart breaking over the same words he’s heard time and time again. “You know I hate when you say that.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Kuroo answers, looking up and away. 

There’s none of his typical humor laced into tonight’s conversation and it’s starting to tug heavily at Bokuto’s heart. How long had the quiet been building up without him noticing? Since moving in a year ago, Bokuto has felt as if he was getting to know a whole new Kuroo. Not a version he loves any less, just one that requires an even gentler touch. The new Kuroo does not like eye contact and he flinches whenever Bokuto is too loud or moves too fast. He does not like to be called honey, muttering about being placated and talked down to. 

It gives Bokuto a reason to pause and think; has any of this happened recently? Has Bokuto truly been that careless? Was he the cause of Kuroo’s latest storm? 

“Hey Bo?” Kuroo asks, eyes foggy and desperate for any sort of connection he can get. “Dance with me until I feel better?”

This is one of those moments when Bokuto wishes he could stop time and stuff this feeling into a bottle for a rainy day. This moment, with Kuroo looking shyly at him from underneath his eyelashes like he hasn’t done since high school, his hands holding on tightly to Bokuto’s as if the other would even dare pull away right now. It’s both heartbreaking and comforting in the strangest way. He loves knowing Kuroo counts on him when he’s like this, but he also hates knowing Kuroo has to count on anyone at all. 

“Of course,” Bokuto answers quietly, pulling one hand away to tap quickly on his phone and play music before laying it on the arm of the couch and returning his arms to Kuroo’s shoulders, fingers moving lazily through the back of his black hair.

**_I’ll never be your beast of burden…_ **

**_My back is broad and it’s a-hurtin’..._ **

“I’ll never be your beast of burden,” Bokuto crows, a little early and a lot off key. He moves his right hand to Kuroo’s waist and clasps Kuroo’s right in his left, “I walk for miles… My feet are hurtin’!”

They both giggle a little at the song choice as Bokuto pulls them in fast circles around the room, doing more laughing than singing. It takes a bit of coaxing, some brow wiggling from Bokuto and a few well placed tickles to Kuroo’s side before he’s convinced to play along. 

“So let's go home and draw the curtains,” Kuroo finally answers, dipping Bokuto and using their clasped hands as a microphone, “Music on the radio.”

“Come on, baby,” they sing in unison, both grinning from ear to ear, “make sweet love to me.” 

They continue their fast circles around the room and it’s like turning back the clock. How many times had Bokuto held Kuroo as they fell into this well practiced motion? At 13, the first and last time he had spent time in the Kuroo household, when the other’s parents had screamed and slammed doors late into the night. Then at 15 when Kuroo had burst through his front door and dissolved into a sobbing mess in his arms and it was much less dancing and a lot more of Bokuto holding on to him until he could stand again. 

Come to think of it, these might have been his introduction to the waves. One of the few times he had stood directly in the eye of Kuroo’s storm. 

“What would you do without me?” He asks, adding the image of 22 year old Kuroo asking to dance to a list he both hopes ends soon and never at all. 

“I would be able to sleep until my alarm goes off, for one,” Kuroo answers, dryly. 

“Hey, hey, hey, now. My five a.m. workouts are what's keeping us young,”

“Are you sure? I’m pretty sure I’m beginning to see  _ actual _ gray in your hair these days, bro. None of that box stuff.”

“Is that your only comeback?” Bokuto guffaws, tugging at the back of the other’s hair in mock irritation. “Also, watch yourself. Do I need to remind you that you’re getting crows feet already?”

“Crows feet! As if! I moisturize every night.” 

“Is that why you smell like cucumbers?”

It’s just for a moment, but Kuroo’s very loud and very happy laugh fills the room. It’s such a wonderful sound that it makes the sparse amount of natural light finding its way into the apartment seem like the shining sun. The light catches on his tanned skin, causing his happy face to glow. Bokuto might just believe in a God. “You are so beautiful when you laugh.”

This was the wrong thing to say and Bokuto knows it as soon as the words leave his mouth. 

Kuroo blinks, all signs of laughter gone from his still beautiful face. “You shouldn’t say things you don’t mean.”

Instead of dignifying that with an answer he knows will be ignored anyway, Bokuto goes back to singing  — if you could call what he’s doing singing. It gets to his favorite line and he changes it from  **_pretty, pretty, girls_ ** to  **_pretty, pretty, Kuroo,_ ** leaning in and blowing a raspberry on the other man’s cheek when he rolls his eyes. 

**_All your sickness, I can suck it up…_ **

**_Throw it all at me…._ **

“I do mean it, by the way,” Bokuto says as he extends his arm upward for Kuroo to spin under. He catches his waist as he comes back around and pulls him into a slower shuffle as the song starts to come to a close. “I wish I could tell you how beautiful you are and have you  _ believe  _ it. I would do anything for you to not have days like this.”

A weak attempt at laughter, and then, “You put way too much pressure on yourself for others happiness, bro.” 

It’s true in a sense, Bokuto thinks. Maybe it’s silly, or maybe it’s because he’s still young and wants to save the world, but he doesn’t see why he shouldn’t give as much love as he can. He’d read somewhere once that some people were born to give more love than they ever receive and he doesn’t really see that as too much of a tragedy. Why shouldn’t he find ways to share this overwhelming amount of love he feels? Is it so tragic to be enamoured with the world and the people in it?

How can Kuroo not see he is one of those people? The most important of them all? 

Bokuto presses their foreheads together, pulling Kuroo closer when he feels the other’s body tense. They’ve been here many times before; one offering a tether to shore and the other debating on whether they’re going to take it. “I would just like to be enough to make you smile at the end of a really tough day.” 

“That’s not your job,” Kuroo groans, stopping their endless circles as the song finally ends. “Why do you do this?”

Why? As if Bokuto hasn’t asked himself that a million times. He just wishes the answer was simple. 

Every day since they met has been filled with Bokuto loving everything and everyone entirely too much and Kuroo being the only one ever to not allow him to do so. Bokuto’s heart breaks and breaks and breaks without ceasing every time they do this sad little dance and still, he gets up every morning with the intention of loving everyone a little too much and Kuroo just a bit more than that. Is that truly so hard for Kuroo to believe? 

“I want to show you that you’re worth more than whatever someone has told you.”

There it is, all laid out on the table. Again. Bokuto has done this a million times. 

He’d do it a million more. 

“Koutarou,” his companion whispers, breath falling over Bokuto’s open mouth, making him shiver. It could be a plea or warning. Bokuto isn’t sure. 

Now the internal battle begins. Should he kiss his best friend now, potentially ruining everything he’s worked on for a moment's release of all these bottled up feelings? Or should he wait, just far enough away that if Kuroo wants to finally cross that bridge, he can? It’s an endless loop, a parallel to Kuroo’s wash, rinse and repeat. Bokuto throws the line, waits, and Kuroo always rejects it. 

Realistically, closing the gap shouldn’t be that big of a deal. They had been each other’s first kiss way back in middle school, both their eyes squeezed shut in anticipation and noses bumping together painfully. This wasn’t new territory for them, but things have changed since they were in middle school. Back then, Kuroo had been much kinder to himself and allowed himself to experience nice things without questioning whether he’d done anything to deserve it. In this past year, only growing steadily since they were 19, Kuroo’s ability to be kind to himself has seemingly left him and this desire to prove his worth has taken over. It’s too much for Bokuto to handle sometimes. Excuses and jokes where he is constantly the punchline seem to be the only things that come out of Kuroo anymore. Bokuto had been desperate to pull down those walls when they first emerged, and now his fingers are cracked and bloodied from all of his useless attempts. 

“Tetsurō,” he answers, leaning close enough that their lips could touch if either were to do so much as take a deep breath.

Kuroo shifts his weight from foot to foot, his golden eyes narrowed in careful contemplation. Bokuto doesn’t need to be a mind reader to know what’s going through his head. Everything Bokuto has said since they were 13 is playing on loop, battling with the hateful words and self loathing that most definitely was not self taught. 

All too quickly, Kuroo pulls away. “I have to work in the morning,” is all he mutters as he retreats to his bedroom. 

The song has long since ended and restarted. It’s not as fun as it was the first time. Bokuto stands there feeling cold and alone with no desire to sing. He knows so little about the person who caused the storm raging behind Kuroo’s golden eyes, but knows he hates them more than anything. To convince someone like Kuroo that he is not worthy of love or he does not deserve to experience it, Bokuto thought you must be the worst kind of monster. 

“Good night,” He calls, hoping for a response. 

The quiet is deafening, echoing against the walls of the endless cavern Kuroo has created between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> scream at me on tumblr @koutarrou and twitter @shiikamaruz


	4. Alive and Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe it is. Maybe, it’s a goodbye to the love he thought he would win eventually. 
> 
> And now that he’s said goodbye, it’s time to figure out what Kuroo moving on means for him. 
> 
> ●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●
> 
> or the one where Bokuto reads too much into things and a misunderstanding occurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> helloooooo all! im back w another update and shew did it wipe me out. i’ll be on another break again after this one because it truly took everything out of me to finish this and get it posted. 
> 
> as always, thank you to Beck and Lizzie who read these throughout the entire process and encourage me endlessly. I know sometimes I can be a pain in the ass and get so downtrodden over my writing, but you guys are always there to help and i wouldn’t be able to finish this if it weren’t for y’all.

They are 23 and this year has breathed new life into Kuroo. He smiles and he laughs and every time they share a dance, it’s not nearly as somber as it had been. The storms are still there, but they are more manageable. 

Bokuto is coming to the realization that maybe, the universe truly did just put him here to help it’s most beautiful creature heal and he’s okay with that. All he’s ever wanted is to grant Kuroo peace of mind. Even if it’s not with him. 

This one time, he will thank the universe for what it has done because it led him to the always blooming, Kuroo Tersurō. 

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

“Kuroo,” Bokuto calls as he rushes about the house, throwing open cabinets and closets as he passes them. “Have you seen my black tie?”

“No,” The other man answers, peeking around the corner to watch the other’s frantic searching. “You can borrow one of mine if you like.” 

Bokuto whirls around and nods his head frantically, following Kuroo into his room. He watches as Kuroo lifts a silk tie out of an ornate box and smiles happily when the other man begins to tie it around his neck without him having to ask for the help. He must have noticed the nervous energy pouring out of him and thought it best to not make him try and do something this delicate when his hands can’t stay still. They smooth over his button down that seems just a bit too tight and then move to fiddle with the button of his suit jacket that looks as if it’s only just holding on. He feels like a little kid playing dress up. 

“Do we have a date I forgot about?”

“Huh?” Bokuto gapes, too lost in thought to hear the joke in Kuroo’s tone. “Uh -- no, I mean, um, I have a banquet with the team tonight? Does this look stupid?” 

“Banquet?” Kuroo’s brow disappears behind his bangs and his tone becomes suddenly interested. “LIke, fancy suits and awards banquet?”

“And rich benefactors that need schmoozing.” 

“It’s a terrible idea to let you go to that — Why are you going to that?”

“Whole team has to go. Perks of being on the national team, I guess,” Bokuto shrugs, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. “You didn’t answer. Does this look stupid?” 

Kuroo relents and gives the smallest shake of his head then continues to stare at him a little while longer. Bokuto finds himself wishing, for the millionth time since becoming friends with Kuroo, that he was a mind reader. He’s about three second from becoming very self conscious when Kuroo finally turns and begins to pull one of his own suits from his closet. Bokuto tries not to stare too hard as he pulls his pajama shirt over his head and tosses it to the side. 

Is he drooling? 

“I’m going with you, “ he finally says, hopping on one foot as he slips his trousers on. Bokuto still hasn’t caught up with what's going on. 

“You are?” Bokuto asks, his head tilting to the right in question. It’s not like he doesn’t want Kuroo to join him but just like when they were teenagers, it’s not often Kuroo offers to go to parties. 

“I am,” Kuroo agrees, nodding towards his door. “What kind of friend would I be if I let you embarrass yourself and wasn’t there to witness it? Now, go finish getting dressed.”

It takes everything in him to keep himself from protesting this because they both know things like this turn him into a walking disaster. As the door shuts between them, he smiles a little. He’s loved Kuroo long enough to know he’s doing this to put Bokuto’s nerves to rest. 

So what if he laughs at him a little in the process?

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

They arrive a little late, Kuroo still laughing at Bokuto’s meltdown over not being able to find his dress shoes and Bokuto has to remind him that he is a volleyball player; not someone who frequents places that require leather shoes with his attire. He stops to straighten his tie just outside the door, his shaking hands giving away just how nervous he truly is. A set of hands, darker than his own, reach out and take his, rubbing them in an attempt to warm them. He peers at Kuroo from under his eyelashes as the other man tucks his pale hand in the crook of his arm and tugs him forward through the mansion's front door. With no other choice but to keep up, he grabs a fist full of the fabric gathered on the inside of Kuroo’s elbow and holds his head high. Well, no time to run now. 

The room is lit up like Christmas -- in July, that is. Marble floors and crystal chandeliers shine all around them. There’s tables of food spread out all around the room and men in fancier suits than his are handing out champagne to anyone who looks old enough. Kuroo snatches a glass as it passes and then downs it when Bokuto shakes his head no. He’s too nervous for alcohol. Across the room he spots a group standing, looking more ragtag and hastily put together than the rest of the room around them. He starts to tug Kuroo’s elbow in that direction, becoming more insistent when he sees flaming orange hair buzzing around the group. 

“Bokuto-san!” He hears from across the room, and he’s suddenly running. All of the fear from a minute ago escapes him as he collides with Hinata Shoyo’s much tinier body and fits himself in with his team. If Kuroo is home, these guys are his favorite vacation spot. He takes his time making his way around the circle, offering Kageyama a hair ruffle, Ushijima and Sakusa a fist bump and then finally lifting his darling Tsum-Tsum in a hug. The other protests quite a bit but he’s smiling all the same when Bokuto sets him down. When he looks up, he sees them all staring behind him and that’s when he remembers he did not come here alone. 

“No way,” Hoshuimi mutters, eyes going wider than normal. 

“Is that…?” Atsumu begins, his mouth turned up in his most mischievous grin.

“Kuroo-san.” Kageyama says with a nod, answering the question in all of their eyes. 

Bokuto suddenly finds himself wishing he had come alone after all. 

“Kageyama,” said man answers, nodding back. He stretches his hand towards Atsumu, a mischievous grin of his own appearing. “And you are?” 

“Atsumu Miya. I’ve actually heard  _ so much _ about you,” To Bokuto’s abject horror, Atsumu takes Kuroo’s outstretched hand and brushes his lips across it’s knuckles, “We all have, haven’t we boys?” 

Now, Bokuto is no stranger to public humiliation. It comes with the territory when you’re loud, and tend to act without thinking but he thinks nothing will ever compare to this moment. The men around him, or traitors might be a better word, nod at Atsumu’s words. There are a few snickers and definitely a mutter of  _ too much  _ from somewhere in the crowd. God, he hates these people. 

Not really, but he wishes he did.

“About me?” Kuroo asks, his eyes flicking to Bokuto as his grin goes from mischievous to downright evil. “Good things I hope?” 

Before Atsumu can answer, Bokuto reaches out and fits him into a headlock. Everyone is staring and Bokuto is sure he will hear about it later. Oh well. At least he won’t die from embarrassment, first. “It’s about time we all got to mingling, isn’t it?” 

As if just remembering where they are, the others begin to look around and shuffle in opposite directions. A few mutter promises to Kuroo about how they will see him around that sound vaguely like threats to Bokuto. Atsumu finally wiggles free and with one quick exchange of glances with Kuroo, the two are off arm in arm. He could catch them without a doubt, but honestly, someone has to act professional. 

“I’ll see you in an hour!” Kuroo calls over his shoulder. 

God, Bokuto really wishes he could hate them. 

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

The next hour passes at a snail’s pace, not that Bokuto minds. 

He spends most of the night watching Kuroo from a distance, his chest swelling with pride every time he catches the other looking at him first. Kuroo stands to the side of the group he’s currently speaking to, placing himself perfectly so he’s leading the conversation but not the focus of it. A few times he points in Bokuto’s direction, his face glowing. Bokuto has a much harder time staying focused on the task at hand after that. He’s so entranced by the way Kuroo laughs at something Atsumu says, he completely tunes out the man currently speaking to him, and who can blame him? There’s an easy smile on Kuroo’s face that hasn't left him all night and his eyes are clear and shining like the chandeliers above. Kuroo is back to being a force of nature and Bokuto wants to do nothing more than to watch him dazzle the room all night. In the soft light of the chandeliers above them, Bokuto begins to think Kuroo looks like he stepped right off the pages of a romance novel. 

There has been a change lately that Bokuto has been noticing more and more and it’s making even more of an appearance tonight. Kuroo’s eyes no longer seem far away and the crashing waves have subsided to gentle swells that don’t become all consuming. When Bokuto makes coffee in the morning, Kuroo will rest against his back; no longer cringing away from their skin touching. Their touches have become more frequent and they linger longer. The old Kuroo is peeking through the storm clouds of the past few years. It warms Bokuto. He feels as if it’s been eons since he’s stood in the warmth of Kuroo’s sun. He’s lost in thoughts of happy Kuroo when he looks up and their eyes meet once again. Kuroo jerks his head towards the door that leads outside before he turns to go. Bokuto doesn’t need to be told twice, he follows without another word to the man beside him. 

Outside in the backyard, the voices muffled behind the closed door, Bokuto has an odd sense of deja vu. Though, this time, instead of stumbling around drunk in worn doc martens, Kuroo is stunning in a fitted suit and leather shoes. Bokuto hangs back to watch him, laughing quietly when he climbs onto the wall of the massive fountain situated in the garden below. 

Speaking of the fountain, the view from the back porch is breathtaking. It sits in the middle of the yard, benches spread out around the stone path surrounding it. Perfectly trimmed hedges line the walk to a stone gazebo further back and he’s almost sure he smells flowers but he can’t see them. It goes perfectly with his previous thoughts of Kuroo and romance novels. 

“Rich people are ridiculous,” he calls, taking the stairs two at a time in his haste to put himself in the story. When he reaches the fountain, he lifts his hand in offering and smiles when the other takes it without question. Kuroo, despite being like a cat in every other aspect, is not particularly graceful. 

“Do I need to remind you that you grew up with rich parents?” Kuroo muses, his eyes on his feet as he shuffles along the stone basin’s slick surface. 

More than once he has to put his weight on Bokuto’s arm to keep from falling. Bokuto tries not to be smug over how easy he is to hold. 

“Yeah, but rich as in send my kid to a fancy academy. Not backyard Busch Gardens.” 

“You only know what Busch Gardens is because your rich parents took you there on vacation.”

“You went with me to Busch Gardens.”

“All funded by your very rich parents.” Kuroo counters, squawking when Bokuto acts like he’s going to push him in the fountain. 

“My parents aren’t this tacky, Tetsu.”

“The crystal collection?”

Bokuto huffs in answer and Kuroo laughs, jumping from the fourain’s wall to stand in front of him with a grin. Kuroo dips his head the slightest bit and presses their foreheads together, lifting their intertwined fingers to kiss Bokuto’s knuckles. He’s about to open his mouth and say something very stupid about how beautiful Kuroo is or how much he loves him, when the door above them cracks open and voices start to spill into the quiet air. Both their eyes go wide and they come to the same realization at once. The party is moving outside. 

Kuroo lifts a finger to his lips in the universal gesture of  _ be quiet  _ and then tugs on their intertwined hands. Their shoes click against the stone pathway and Bokuto can’t help but laugh at their failed attempt at a quiet getaway. Despite being 23, he can’t help but feel like a teenager again, sneaking out with Kuroo and getting into trouble. They run and run, diving behind those perfectly trimmed hedges and finding the flowers that Bokuto had mentioned earlier. By the time they stop, they are both breathless from laughing and Kuroo collapses on the ground, pulling Bokuto with him. They lay there, Bokuto feeling the wet grass soak through his pants and not caring, staring at the stars. He’s starting to really like this story they are writing. 

“Do you think they saw us?” He whispers, squeezing Kuroo’s hand. 

“Who cares?” Kuroo laughs loudly, “I’m just hoping they aren’t trying to find us. I’m out of breath.” 

“You’re gonna lead them right to us with your hyena laugh.” 

“Excuse me, my  _ what? _ ”

“You heard me. You laugh like that goofy dude from The Lion King.” 

“Oh, that’s it.” 

This is one of those moments where knowing Kuroo as long as he has always has its benefits. Kuroo starts to roll on top of him, as expected, and with a quick shift of his weight, Bokuto has him back on the ground and pinned down by his wrists. The other man struggles against him without any real effort and then stills with a laugh. 

“Okay, okay you win.” He concedes, tugging once more at his wrists, “Not really a fair fight when you have sixty pounds on me.” 

“You started it,” Bokuto sneers playfully, bending to nuzzle their noses together. 

“Did not.” 

“Did too.” 

“You called me a hyena.” 

“Actually, I said you laugh like one. Which is true.” 

“Did it have to be the goofy one, though?” Kuroo sighs. It would be more convincing if he wasn’t smiling so wide. 

“Well, you’re no Whoopie Goldberg. I could never insult her like that.” 

The evening air is cool for a July night and yet Bokuto couldn’t be warmer. His hands release Kuroo’s wrists and move to cradle his smiling face. The other’s hair is messier than usual from their very short wrestling match and his suit jacket is open wide exposing the hard muscles that are visible just beneath the surface of his white button down. Bokuto’s fingers trace Kuroo from jaw to waist, as if he can commit this smiling version of him to memory. His fingers are on their fourth trip over Kuroo’s soft throat, stumbling over his pulse point causing him to smile at just how alive and here he is.

“You seem so happy tonight, Bo.” 

“How could I not be? You’re here with me.”

“You’re such a sap.”

“You love it.”

“Maybe a little.” 

“Hey,” he mutters quietly, flicking Kuroo’s chest. “What did Atsumu tell you?” 

“Why?” Kuroo practically purrs, his face promising nothing but pure mischief. “Embarrassed?”

“Of course not. I’d gladly tell you anything I’ve told him. It’s no secret.” 

“Well, your secrets are safe with that one, apparently. He was mainly just messing with you.” Kuroo squirms a little, wrapping his arms around Bokuto’s waist. “All he really said was that you cared about me. A lot.” 

They fall into comfortable silence, and for once Bokuto doesn’t mind it. He’s here with the person he loves most in the world underneath him and his fingers are tracing every inch of him. Then man beneath him knows that he’s cared for. It’s all Bokuto’s ever wanted. The universe is on his side tonight. 

“Do you remember,” Kuroo asks, eyes far away but not foggy, “when we found that shopping cart when we were walking home from school and decided to ride it down that big ass hill?” 

“Yes?” Bokuto remembers the resulting injuries all too well. The thought of them makes him shiver. “Why?”

Kuroo simply smiles, his eyes falling closed as Bokuto runs his fingers over his throat once more. “You were so scared when you got up and saw me.” 

“There was blood all over your face!” 

“It was all over you too. We had just been drug over several feet of concrete.” 

Bokuto lifts his hands and stares at his palms, inspecting the few scars left from that day. He had flown out of the cart’s basket and put his hands up to prevent his face from scraping against the concrete. Kuroo had not been so lucky. He lowers his hands and touches the scar over Kuroo’s eyebrow, the one across the bridge of his nose and then the two that cross over his lips. They’re small and faded and you wouldn’t see them if you didn’t know where to look but Bokuto still feels the pit in his stomach he did that day when he sees them. 

“Why are you bringing this up?” He asks, hating the scars but loving the excuse to touch Kuroo even more. Not that it seemed like he needed one these days. 

“You  _ insisted _ on carrying me all the way home. You acted like it was your job to take care of me.” 

“And?” 

“And nothing. I just wanted to thank you.” 

This makes Bokuto pause, his fingers faltering n their desire to touch as much as Kuroo as possible. “Thank me?” 

“Yes,” Kuroo says, his eyes earnest and tone sincere. “I know I’ve been a pain lately and you deserve a lot more than what I’ve been giving but you always take such good care of me. I wanted to thank you for that.” 

“You don’t have to thank me for anything.” 

“I do. You’ve been taking on so much of my shit for so long without complaining.”

“I’d do it a million more times.”

“I’m afraid you might have to. At least a few more times.”

Bokuto, despite his infinite desire to make everything as easy as possible for Kuroo, begins to cry. It’s quiet at first, the tears falling down his cheeks and onto Kuroo’s white shirt and then the sobbing begins. Gentle hands cradle the back of his head, pulling him down and holding him. He clings to Kuroo as he lets his own little storm rage for a moment. The salty waves lap at his insides, stinging and burning his many times broken heart. 

“Are you—-“ He gasps, trying to speak in between sobs, “Are you good, now?” 

And, he’s aware. He’s aware of how heavy of a question that is, how heavy and loaded the answer can be. 

“I mean, not fully? But,” Kuroo pauses to take a deep breath, “I’m working on it. I’m trying. You’ve been so good to me through it all and that’s what’s truly helped me decide I want to move on.” 

“Move on?” Bokuto asks, heart full of hope he’d thought he’d lost. 

“I just want to forget that the last few years even happened, ya know? I want us to be easy, again.” 

This, Bokuto decides, is something he can live with. It hurts, but he can live with it. He can stomach being the reason his best friend learned to move on, as long as he is healing and happy. Even if it’s not with him. 

His sobs continue for quite a while, his feelings of rejection and his happiness for Kuroo’s healing mixing and making an even bigger mess. It’s very confusing for his very soft heart. When they finally subside, and his heart is just stinging instead of burning, Bokuto recognizes the gap. Not only does he recognize it, he contemplates it; weighs its pros and cons. This could be his last chance. He knows Kuroo wants to move on. Is he content to let that happen before he’s fully told Kuroo how he feels? Does he truly want to push this boundary when he sees how much better Kuroo is doing?

It’s then, he decides, they are long overdue for a night where they are both at peace. He makes the decision to leave the gap open. He does not widen or close it. He stays where he is, his face nuzzled into Kuroo’s neck. Softly, gently, he presses a kiss to the same pulse point he was tracing earlier, thankful for how alive and here they both are. It feels so much like a goodbye. 

Maybe it is. Maybe, it’s a goodbye to the love he thought he would win eventually. 

And now that he’s said goodbye, it’s time to figure out what Kuroo moving on means for him. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoping that next time, bokuto will learn to turn that noggin of his off for awhile and just be in the moment. 
> 
> as always, thank you so much for reading. you can scream at me on twitter @ shiikamaruz or tumble @ koutarrou.


	5. In Order to Heal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo laughs without humor, throwing his head back to stare at the ceiling. It’s his signature move for when he wants to cry. “You played the part well. The love sick best friend. You really had me fooled.” 
> 
> And for the first time since meeting Kuroo, Bokuto feels rage too. “And you enjoyed the chase. You liked knowing I would come back over and over and over again.” 
> 
> ●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●
> 
> Or the one in which Bokuto takes a misunderstanding and runs with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiiii everyone! i’m sure it comes to no surprise at this point that the only thing i’m good at writing is angst. this chapter comes from me listening to Exuent by The Oh Hellos and Million Reasons by Lady Gaga on repeat and them just really putting me in my bokuto feels. as always i’m sorry for what i’ve done but i would like to remind you that some thing come back stronger after they’ve broken. 
> 
> ps: i made a spotify playlist for this fic heres the link: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0TbrgYHtyruI1d1AeATZoQ?si=rn1l-P4zTsWIl6xKsiA5VA

It has been a whopping sixteen hours since Bokuto has thought of kissing Kuroo. Truly, a new record for him. It’s not like he has any intention of giving into  _ that _ particular urge anytime soon, anyway. 

He also has no kind words left for the universe. It’s been giving him whiplash lately. 

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

It’s starting again. 

The storm. 

He knows this because when he wakes the next morning, his bed is cold. Which wouldn’t be a big deal if he didn’t distinctly remember convincing Kuroo to sleep with him the night before. His fingers card through the once warm sheets beside him, coming up with nothing but disappointment. He remembers how excited he had been after their conversation in the garden, their escape through the far side of the property and his happy giggles as he pushed Kuroo through the door of their shared apartment and into his bedroom. 

_ “Stay,” he had whispered, pointedly ignoring the indecision in Kuroo’s eyes. They are friends and Bokuto knows this. He won’t try again. “Sleep with me like old times.” _

_ “Old times?” Kuroo asked.  _

_ “Yes. Like before all of this happened.”  _

The memory of last night lays heavily across his chest, causing him to wheeze as he climbs out of bed. A party the night before isn’t enough to get them out of early morning practice. 

Kuroo stands in their kitchen, already dressed for work with coffee in hand. It’s two hours before he actually has to leave and he knows Kuroo hates waking up even one minute before he has to. He looks as if he didn’t sleep, but still, he smiles. 

“Good morning,” Bokuto says, trying and failing at keeping his tone light. “You’re up early.” 

“I am.” 

“Big project at work?” 

“No. I just wanted to see you off.” 

Bokuto stands there, looking at the man he has loved since they both still had a few of their baby teeth, and feels nothing but defeat. The laughter from last night is gone, lost to Kuroo’s stormy sea. Or maybe his own. He’s not even sure anymore. He knows Kuroo had warned him days like this were still going to happen, but he hadn’t expected it so soon. It’s made worse by the fact he knows it’s his fault. He’s so very aware that he pushed a boundary when he asked Kuroo to sleep with him and if he could take it back — take it all back — he would. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yes?” Kuroo answers, his head tilting innocently. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

The foggy eyes, the stiff shoulders, the way your hand trembles when it lifts the mug. 

“I dunno. Just checking in, I guess.” 

Kuroo’s foggy eyes move to stare at Bokuto, and his lips turn up in the one smile that Bokuto can’t stand. It’s fake and hides absolutely nothing. 

“You don’t have to worry about me, Bokuto. I’m moving on, remember?” 

So he’s been told. 

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

The thing about Bokuto is that he’s a runner. Always has been. There is nothing more cathartic to him than an open path before him and everything else behind him. He wishes he had a more tragic backstory to that, but the truth is, he just runs from things he can’t deal with and Kuroo moving on might be one of those things. That familiar itch is appearing; the one where he packs his things and just hits the road without a second glance behind him. He never imagined himself running from Kuroo, never once saw a future where he reached the end of his rope where the love of his life is concerned but here he is and the only option he sees for his future is to run as far as he can. 

Today, however, his only option is to take his car. After coming to his decision, he doesn’t have the energy in him to pick his broken heart off the floor and then run ten miles to the gym with it too. The heaviness in his chest seems to grow with each passing minute and it’s almost a shock that he becomes more resolute in his decision to leave. He had walked away from Kuroo once when he’d accepted the offer to go pro but to do it of his own free will? It’s Earth rattling. He’s not entirely sure who he is without Kuroo, but if it will help Kuroo in his journey to move on, how could he even think of staying? 

And of course he’s aware how silly it is to feel so betrayed. He climbs mechanically from the car, thinking back on his cold and empty bed and finds himself feeling contempt for the man who had occupied it. He knows it’s not fair. It’s not like it hasn’t been empty for years. Kuroo had stopped sleeping in it when they parted ways after graduation. Did he truly think one good night would convince Kuroo to fall in love with him? Was he really that naive? He had laid there with him in the garden, saw the happy look in Kuroo’s eyes as he had announced he was ready to move on. He knew when they had fallen into bed last night that old times were all they would ever have. 

He climbs the stairs of the gym, hating himself for being too lazy to do his hair this morning as it falls into his eyes once again. Everything seems to take a monumental amount of effort today. He considers himself lucky that he doesn’t have to worry too much about his appearance since the others had much more to drink than him last night. Atsumu, at least, was bound to look worse than him. 

“Damn, Bokkun. You look like hell.” 

His one hope for the day is shattered as Atsumu jogs past him, his hair in its signature swoop and eyes unobscured by sunglasses. He gives a quick glance around the room, noting that everyone looked  _ much _ more put together than he currently does. It makes him want to stomp his foot in frustration. What’s with these people? Does no one get a hangover anymore?

“Not all of us wake up with perfect hair every morning.” He snaps back. Today was going to be unbearably long. 

Practice passes in a blur. His hand stings where it pours out his frustrations on to the ball over and over. That’s all his life is anymore, a routine that he goes through over and over. Atsumu tosses, he spikes. Kuroo washes, he dries. He loves Kuroo, Kuroo wants to move on. 

It’s like fucking groundhog day. 

“You were in top form, today,” Atsumu says as they pack their bags after practice. Bokuto is too tired to let the comment go to his head. “Can ya please just leave whatever it is yer working through alone until we get back?” 

“You are such an ass,” Sakusa mutters, reaching up to swat at the back of Atsumu’s head. “Have you ever had a thought you  _ didn’t  _ feel the need to vocalize?” 

“I don’t think so,” Hinata chimes in from where he sits, tying his shoes, “Last week he looked me dead in the eye and asked me to marry him after I hit a pretty clean cross shot.” 

“It was kind of magical,” Hoshuimi agrees, “Not proposal worthy, though. Atsumu just doesn’t know how to talk about his feelings.” 

“That is kind of pathetic, Tsum-Tsum.” Bokuto chides. 

“Hey!” 

“Bokuto-san,” Hinata says, his serious tone drawing everyone’s attention. “Are you fighting with Kuroo-san, again?” 

Bokuto laughs for the first time today, “No. Kuroo is just…. A very complicated man.” 

“You both seemed so happy last night.” 

“We were.” 

“And now?” 

“And now,” Bokuto sighs, ruffling Hinata’s hair, “We are moving on.” 

“What does that mean?” Atsumu asks, his brow lifted. 

“I‘m not really sure.” Bokuto lifts his bag, ready to go home and fall into bed, “Can someone please answer one of  _ my  _ questions now? Where are we going?” 

“We have games all over the Northern part of the country for the last two weeks of the season.” Atsumu answers. His eyes are full of pity. 

Bokuto hates that. “Since when?” 

“We found out last night. In the garden? Coach made the announcement before we all left.” 

He decides it’s in his best interest to  _ not  _ admit that the reason he had missed this particular announcement was because he was busy getting his heart trampled on. It’s not like he really needs to. They’re all looking at him with pity, now. 

“Right. I must have forgotten.”

With that settled, they all gather their bags and offer their goodbyes. Atumu is the only one who hangs back. He falls in step beside Bokuto as they walk towards their cars, his head turned to the sky as if he’s deciding whether to speak or not. 

“Ya know,” he finally says, “I have an extra bedroom if you ever need a place to go.” 

Bokuto blinks. “Uh, thanks man. I really appreciate it.” 

He opens the door to his car and throws his bag in, looking up one last time before climbing in. Atsumu clearly has more to say. 

“Hinata is going to Italy to play volleyball next season.” Atsumu finally blurts, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. 

“I’m sorry, Atsumu.” He says. And he means it. 

“Yeah, well. He’s too big to stay in one place for long.” 

“Still sucks though.” 

Atsumu nods, starting to turn towards his own car. “He says there’s still a spot open on Italy’s roster. I was considering it but,” he pauses and takes a deep breath. “I feel like you might need it more than me.” 

With that, Atsumu waves and finally climbs into his own car leaving Bokuto there gaping. There it is, his wide open path. He just needs to be brave enough to take it. 

Maybe some extra distance is exactly what they both need. 

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

He pauses outside their door, giving himself one more minute to feel sorry for himself. Or two. He might actually need two. Finally, he steels himself; adamant in his decision to not let Kuroo know how much this new revelation is affecting him. It would do nothing but make them both even more miserable and he will not be the reason Kuroo feels like he must compromise on his healing. 

“Kurooooo,” He calls as the door swings open, a bag of takeout swinging at his elbow, “I brought your favorite for dinner tonight.” 

Kuroo sits on the couch watching something that Bokuto is fairly certain he called ‘a plague to reality TV’ just last week. His head whips around, a smile lighting up his face, “Aw, Bo, you didn’t have to go so far out of your way. We could have eaten leftovers.” 

“Ah, it was nothing. It’s actually because I have exciting news,” he says, continuing when he doesn’t get an answer, “The season is ending soon and you know what that means? Two straight weeks of games. Well, I’m sure there's a day or two off in between, but man. That’s a lot of volleyball.” 

Something must have piqued Kuroo’s interest because they both stand at the table now, Bokuto staring up at him as he pulls nervously at his fingers. Kuroo smirks down at him before wrapping his arms around Bokuto’s waist and kissing his temple. He knows it’s Kuroo’s attempt at soothing his anxious rambling but if anything, it makes it worse. 

“Which I don’t mind,” Bokuto continues, “Because I love volleyball and all but two weeks away from home? I’m not sure about that. I like my bed. And hotels have scratchy blankets. Maybe I’ll take my own blanket..” 

“Bo.” 

“And then there's the whole mess with how far away I’ll be from home. We’re going to the northern part of the country and I’m worried I won’t understand their accents…”

“Kou.”

He’s gotten started now and can’t stop, “And if I can’t understand their accents then maybe they can’t understand mine and I’ll get lost and no one will ever find me! I mean can you imagine? Me lost that far from home? With no way to communicate? Well, I guess I would have my phone but if I can’t talk to the locals how can I tell the team where to find me? Akaashi lives up

that way so I at least know I have somewhere I can go in case I get lost forever….”

“ _ Koutarou, take a breath please.”  _

He curls his lips into his mouth in embarrassment, turning to stare up at Kuroo. The other man looks absolutely exhausted but his eyes are light and clear. There’s a fond smile on his lips. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to totally make tonight about me,” he sighs, leaning into Kuroo’s embrace. “How are you? How was work?” 

“I’m fine,” Kuroo promises, lifting one hand to grab a bowl from the table. “I’m sorry about this morning. I was overthinking like always.” 

“You don’t have to apologize, Kuroo. I’ve known you long enough to know when you need a minute.” Bokuto takes this as further proof that it’s the perfect time for him to move on, too. Kuroo successfully turned his own storm into a rainbow all on his own. It’s kind of bittersweet. “I’m so proud of you, ya know?” 

“Mm,” Kuroo hums, continuing to try and serve himself with one arm still wrapped around Bokuto’s waist. “Now, tell me about these games. What’s your beef with hotel blankets?” 

“They’re not as soft as mine.” Bokuto shrugs, taking pity on Kuroo and offering him a bite of his own ramen. “You know, you could probably eat if you’d let me go.” 

“Don’t wanna. I’m gonna hold you until you tell me what’s actually bothering you.” 

“There’s nothing bothering me. Besides thoughts of scratchy hotel blankets.” 

“You only ramble like that when you’re nervous.” 

“Oh, whatever. If I’m nervous about anything, it’s the games coming up.” 

Bokuto shimmies out of Kuroo’s grasp, stuffing his face in an attempt to force the conversation to end. He lifts more of his food to Kuroo, his eyebrow raised in offering. Surprisingly, Kuroo doesn’t seem as willing to share. 

“What aren’t you telling me?” Kuroo asks, gently pushing Bokuto’s hand away. “I know there’s something else. You don’t get nervous over games anymore.” 

They stand there, their food going cold, staring each other down. Bokuto doesn’t want to do this. Not tonight. He wanted to have more of a plan than moving to Italy to play volleyball before he told Kuroo about his decision. 

“What makes you say that?” He asks, his voice shaking. 

“Why are you avoiding the question?” Kuroo stands there, as quiet as the calm before a storm. “I’ve known you since we were 10 years old and you’ve never been a good liar.” 

“I’m not lying about anything. I’m just not sure about it.” 

“You’re so unsure you come in here with my favorite ramen from across town after practicing all day long?” 

“Well, I—“ He begins only to be cut off again. 

“And then you happily announce that you are leaving for two weeks. Which is… something but I know that’s not the end of it.” 

Bokuto takes a deep breath and then another. Kuroo’s golden eyes are steely with a barely contained fury that he has never seen before and they demand an answer. 

“I—“ he mutters, taking another deep breath. “The guys mentioned at practice that they’re looking into international leagues is all. Italy has a spot open. Atsumu told me Hinata is going.”

The room goes so still, you would be able to hear a pin drop. Kuroo’s shoulders go rigid and the bowl he was holding drops to the floor and shatters. Neither one of them makes a move to pick it up. 

“ _ Italy? _ ”

“Yes, Tetsurō. Italy.” 

“Wow, um. I need a moment, I think.” Kuroo says, his hand flying to his mouth as his shoulders begin rising and falling rapidly. He starts to pace in their already cramped kitchen, his breath pulling between his teeth in frantic huffs. Bokuto was prepared for anger — not whatever this is. 

“Hey, hey,” He mutters, pulling Kuroo back into his arms. “It’s okay, Tetsu. Breathe for me, baby. I promise it’s all going to be okay.”

“So, this is the end, huh?” Kuroo gasps, his voice coming out choked. His fingers dig into Bokuto’s arms as he continues to try and ground himself. “You swoop in and save poor pitiful Kuroo then fly off into the sunset like some kind of hero?” 

“No, of course not. Kuroo, you know that’s—“

“ _ Clearly,  _ I don’t know anything.” 

“It’s just something I’m considering. There’s no reason to talk about it, right now. No reason to be this upset over it.” 

Kuroo laughs without humor, throwing his head back to stare at the ceiling. It’s his signature move for when he wants to cry. “You played the part well. The love sick best friend. You really had me fooled.” 

And for the first time since meeting Kuroo, Bokuto feels rage too. “And you enjoyed the chase. You liked knowing I would come back over and over and over again.” 

“You never planned on actually following through with it, did you? Any of it. The kissing or the touching or the happily ever after you’ve always promised? It was all lies.” 

Bokuto lifts his hands to his hair and tugs it in frustration. Once upon a time, he would feel bad but they are 23 and he’s so  _ sick  _ of Kuroo’s petulant child act. “You have to quit projecting your bullshit on to me! You are the one who has  _ consistently  _ pushed me away since we were teenagers.” 

“Akaashi Keiji was the person you loved back then. I saw it. We all did.” 

“Do not,” Bokuto says quietly, the rage seeping from his body and into his tone, “pretend like you know anything about what happened between Akaashi and I. You don’t want to go down this path, Kuroo.” 

“Why? What was so special about Akaashi? Why did he get to love you and all I got was you trying to fix me?” 

“Kuroo, I’m warning you.” 

It’s almost a dare and Bokuto can see the way Kuroo is trying to decide whether he wants to continue to push this particular button. 

“You loved him more than me. It’s just a fact. I bet he knew about Italy the second you decided. Just like when you skipped college to go pro.” 

“ _ Enough. _ ” Bokuto does something he has never wanted to do with Kuroo; he raises his voice. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to throw people in my face and play the victim here. I have been second to  _ everyone  _ in your life until now. Including a piece of shit ex you only dated as a way to get back at me. I love you so much, Kuroo, but this is cruel. You’re being mean.” 

Kuroo takes a stuttering breath. “If you love me so much, then why are you doing this? What is waiting for you in Italy?

“Because it’s not the right time for us! You said you wanted to move on and forget all of this!” 

“Oh, so you’re the king of timing now, are you?” Kuroo falls quiet, his eyes torn between regret and anger. 

“I don’t understand how we got here. You were so happy last night.” He pauses a moment, gathering his thoughts. “Italy is something I need to do for  _ me,  _ Kuroo. I don’t have a good enough reason to stay anymore.” 

“Well, isn’t that just fucking lovely to hear.” Kuroo spits, his tears welling up and spilling over, “You want so badly to go back to old times but I can’t do that, Bokuto. I’m not the same person I was and neither are you. I’m sorry  _ that’s  _ not good enough for you.” 

“Stop calling me Bokuto,” he pleads, not ready to have the distance between them. He thought he would have a bit more time than this. “you  _ never  _ call me that anymore.” 

“I can’t even stand to look at you, right now.” Kuroo whispers. “How could I call you anything else? Would you prefer ‘my star’?”

It’s a slap in the face and they both know it. Kuroo pulls this nickname that Akaashi once called Bokuto and throws it between them. It lays there, mocking them both. 

“Good thing I’ll be leaving for two weeks, then, isn’t it?” 

“And even better that I won’t be here when you get back. I think a clean break will be easier for us both. That way you can move to Italy without any of the guilt.” 

Bokuto hears the promise in Kuroo's voice and it’s no surprise that it breaks his heart. Again. Half of him wants to kiss Kuroo and beg him to stay. The other wants to help him pack. In the end, Bokuto decides if he’s going to kiss Kuroo, it won’t be after they’ve just had a screaming match over very cold ramen. 

“If that’s what you need,” Bokuto says, turning towards his room. 

The door clicks closed between them and in the privacy of his room, he breaks down. He screams and cries and tears everything apart. He rips his sheets off his bed, throws his trophies against the wall. Knowing he will regret this in the morning does nothing to deter him. Waves of rage and sadness crash over him again and again until he falls against the door and slides to the floor in defeat. He’s made his choice, now he has to live with it. 

The sobbing begins anew when the sound of their front door slamming shut echoes throughout the house. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always scream at me on tumblr @koutarrou and twitter @shiikamaruz


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